Bob's here.

Wednesday
Section 3.0
Tulley Lake




“Bob’s here! Bob’s here!”

I heard a rattling on my tent door, and blearily tried to rouse myself awake, trying to throw off the weight of reading the night before until two in the morning. (For the record, Sick Puppy by Carl Hiassen makes damn fine camping reading. I spent the entire late night snug in my sleeping bag, with a lantern over my head, listening to the moths butt up against the outside of my tent, and man, let me tell you, I was in heaven.)

There wasn’t much time for me to pick up the pieces of my broken senses, however. Even Corb, usually the soundest of sleepers, was starting to twist and squirm and open up his eyes. And then there was the telltale sound of a zipper being yanked down, and Ashley poked her head through the tent’s entrance. I quickly yanked my arm off of Corb’s stomach.

“Daddy! Bob’s here!” she screamed. “And he brought donuts!”

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